Something Else You Didn't Know
by pdljmpr6
Summary: Eliot can't handle every medical emergency the team gets into and Hospitals are not always an option. Team!Fic some whump, some angst and some medical BS for good measure.
1. The Call

**A/N:** Enjoy! - pj

"Ow ow ow ow," Parker's eyes were squeezed shut, every muscle in her body tense with pain as Eliot gingerly placed her on the couch in the middle of the hotel suite.

Instantly Hardison appeared at her side, offering one trembling hand for her to squeeze against the waves of pain. Sophie came from the bathroom with a cool washcloth and lay it across her forehead, dabbing at her pale, sweaty skin while worrying her rouge colored bottom lip mercilessly.

Parker cursed. Repeatedly and loudly. In several languages the team didn't know she even spoke.

Nate stood closer to the door watching them tend to Parker, his face betraying every inch of concern and worry he was feeling. After a moment Eliot came to stand beside him, his arms crossed over her chest, frowning deeply.

"So what can you do for her?" Nate asked quietly, wordlessly taking Sophie's hand when she returned to his side and reached for it.

Parker, who under Hardison's coaching was fighting unconsciousness, let out an involuntary whimper and Hardison looked up at the others, swallowing hard.

Eliot's sharp blue eyes flickered up from Parker to land on Nate, "me? Nothing."

Nate and Sophie both looked at him and Eliot shrugged, his helplessness masked by irritation.

"What do you want me to do, Nate?" he asked in a harsh whisper, not wanting Parker to hear, "it's an open compound fracture. The risk of infection is unbelievable. She needs surgery at a hospital _I_ _told_ _you_ _that_."

Briefly, Nate's mind flashed back to fifteen minutes before. Hearing Parker's startled cry when her harness gave out over the ear buds followed by her heartbreaking moans of pain as Eliot announced he was en route. Running though the building, dodging badges and bullets as Eliot's muttered curses and his contrasting gentle words of encouragement to Parker filtered into his head.

Her leg had been bent at an impossible angle then, dangling horrifically from her body, blood soaking and white bone visible through the pant leg as Eliot began his emergency triage, growling orders and murmuring encouragement.

"We can't go to the hospital," Sophie said, though it seemed to break her heart to remind them, "the FBI knows our faces and so do the local police. They'll have faxed a photo of each of us to every hospital in the state by now."

"Well I'm not a surgeon Sophie, this is out of my league." Eliot snarled, frustrated at the situation. At the job gone wrong, at the police for catching on, at himself for not being able to do more.

"Oh god," Parker hissed, throwing her head back as tears leaked from her eyes, trying not to sob, "hurts hurts _hurts_."

Nate turned and reached into the mini bar.

"Hardison." The hacker looked up long enough to catch the tiny bottle whiskey thrown his way, "it's the only painkiller we got."

Alec nodded and set to coaxing Parker into drinking it. Sophie crossed the room to help him, needing to be near.

"Nate," Sophie looked up, all the worry and desperation bubbling up from her chest summed up in a single word.

"I know," he said simply, holding a small bottle of vodka like a prayer. His eyes were blank as he stared over at Parker, his shoulders and back stiff with tension. His mind whirling as he searched for a solution, a way to get Parker what she needed.

A few feet away, Eliot's clenched his teeth and he closed his eyes.

"I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" Sophie asked, looking up from where she sat perched on the coffee table, her arms wrapped around her middle, tears standing in her eyes.

"Gotta make a phone call," he said, and closed the door to the room behind him as he left.

---

Parker was still awake, Hardison could tell because she was still gripping his hand as if he were going to pull away, which he wasn't. But her condition hadn't improved in the twenty minutes that had passed since Eliot's mysterious phone call.

Sophie wordlessly covered the now shivering thief with a new blanket from the closet and returned to Nathan's side, too distracted by worry to notice the empty bottle of vodka in his hand.

"Eliot, how much longer till this friend of yours-" Nate started.

"They said they'd be here, they'll be here," Eliot interrupted sharply; his own worry masked with anger, true to form. Just as he finished speaking there was a knock at the door and he jumped from his leaning position against the wall to answer it.

The others couldn't see around the corner but a whispered conversation of 'thanks for comin' in the raspy voice of their hitter followed by a curt reply of 'where's my patient' reached the suite ahead of the speakers.

Nate wasn't sure what he'd been expecting.

Probably an older man, someone who had his license revoked after an unfortunate law suit, or maybe a greedy private practice type who was looking for a little extra cash or the thrill of working with criminals.

But he was certainly not expecting the young, leggy blonde with soft honey eyes and a black pencil skirt that entered the room. She took in the spacious room in a sweeping glance before zeroing in on Parker and rushing over, unceremoniously shoving Hardison aside in order to begin her examination.

"What happened?" she demanded, "I need truth and I need details." The woman set a black bag down beside her and pulled out a stethoscope, a thermometer, a flashlight and a pair of latex gloves. She looked up and threw impatient looks around the room when no one spoke.

_"Now._"

Nate glanced at Eliot, but the hitter's face revealed nothing. He decided not to make their mysterious doctor ask again and stepped forward. He explained where Parker had been, how far she'd fallen and what had been done to treat her, Sophie interjecting here and there to clarify or correct.

All the while the young woman was busy checking Parker's pupils and pulse, carefully feeling for breaks in the small thief's bones that might have been overlooked.

Parker stirred and when she touched a particularly tender spot near her ribs, her blue eyes sliding open to and focus on the stranger.

"Hey," the woman said, her voice suddenly soft and warm, "what's your name?" She smiled and Parker gave her an odd look.

"Parker," she frowned slightly, "you look kind of…" she trailed off, squeezing her eyes shut and letting out a soft moan.

"Alright Parker just take it easy," the woman turned and reached back into her bag, coming back with a syringe and a disinfectant cloth, "I know you're in a lot of pain but I'm gonna take care of that, okay? I just need you to stay awake for a little while longer, think you can do that?"

Parker nodded and the woman looked up at the team, all the softness vanishing. Back to business.

"Tell me one of you has medical training," she said, sending a pointed look at Hardison, then Nate and finally Sophie. Seeing them all give a short shake of their heads she sighed deeply and looked back down at Parker.

"Great," she muttered then threw a quick, cold glance at Eliot, "looks like you're with me, 45. I have scrubs and masks in my trunk, go get them."

She turned to the others without waiting to see if he would do as she asked.

"I'm gonna need a table of some kind."

"A massage table work?" Nate asked and, at her affirmative reply, surprised everyone when he got up and disappeared out the door after Eliot.

The woman nodded, back to checking Parker, "I'm also going to need clean sheets, towels and ice," she took a deep breath and blew her long bangs off her forehead, muttering to herself, "and a head examination."

"I'm on it." Sophie said, glad to have something to do as she too left the room.

Hardison was perched on the arm of the couch and watched as the young woman the charm back on and spoke softly to Parker, explaining what she was going to do and why, expertly deflecting Parker's weak protests that she 'didn't do drugs'.

"Well I'm not about to operate on you awake so I'm afraid you don't have an option," she told her gently, almost teasingly. Hardison tilted his head at her, the slight lilt to her speech that he was sure he wasn't supposed to notice.

She snapped on the gloves and administered something to the nearly unconscious Parker through a syringe, then started an IV.

"Thanks for doing this," he said his dark eyes flitting up to hers breifly, as if he can't quite convince them to stop looking at Parker long enough to make real contact with someone else.

"Parker is…she 's…"

She looked up and, for a moment, the cool businesslike exterior evaporated, revealing something deep and real that flooded her honey eyes with warmth. A small smile kicked up the side of her mouth when she recognized the look on his face, suddenly transforming her from 'just pretty' to 'memorably beautiful' in a matter of moments.

"I know."

_TBC - I'm such a review junkie. Please. Enable me.  
_


	2. Burned Bridges

**A/N:** Wow, thanks SO much to everyone who reviewed! you seriously made my week! That means _you **scrawn, **_**_hockeyfan6868, BlackFireRaven, luna-pendragon, crazycamera, vickyloka_** (luv ya babe!), _**MusicEstVita**_. And for my anon reviewer - _thanks! I'll try not to_. I don't even think you know how much joy a writer gets when they open their mailbox to reviews, especially those of you who told me what you liked about it or what you're expecting. You guys are awesome and this fandom is awesome so here's the update, it's rather long, enjoy! - pj

Nate, Sophie and Eliot all arrived back at the room at almost the same time and the doctor wasted no time in getting them set up.

"Table in there, cover it with a towel, then the sheet, then another towel. When it's ready you," she pointed at Hardison, "take her in there, _carefully_. You help him," she told Nate, and then ook her scrubs from Eliot, not even sparing him a glance, "we need to get changed."

The team set to work and the woman was pulling her long hair up into a bun and setting up her tools on the nightstand just as Hardison and Nate were carefully laying Parker on the impromptu operating table.

Eliot reached out to grab the visitor's arm, talking quietly in an attempt to not attract the others' attention.

"Hey, are you okay?" He asked and held back a wince when she shrugged off his arm immediately and took a step back from him.

"Don't, okay?" she said, equally quietly, all the venom that had been in her voice earlier suddenly leaking out, "You want me to operate on your friend, then I need a clear head. Just...let me do my job, okay?" She said, almost pleading. He could never deny her anything when she looked at him like that.

Eliot held her gaze for a moment, looking conflicted, and then nodded and moved to one side.

She turned to face the team and Sophie was struck with the thought that she was suddenly five years younger with her hair back like that. She put her hands on her hips as she scanned over their handiwork.

Seeing that everything was set up as well and as sterile as she was going to get it she nodded. "Okay, good. Now get out."

Nate, Sophie and Hardison all gave her an incredulous look.

"What? I'm pretty sure Parker doesn't want an audience for her surgery and you're risking further contamination by being in here so _get_," her tone brooked no argument, young or not she was accustomed to being deffered to, especially in her operating room. She turned to Eliot, though somehow managed to never look at him, "you ready?"

He nodded and helped her put on her coverall as the others moved toward the door.

Just before he disappeared outside Nate paused and looked back.

"What's your name, again, Doctor?"

If this girl was going to be cutting into Parker, he wanted to know who she was. Eliot trusted her, which was enough but…well Hardison was going to need something to do to keep from going crazy anyway.

She glanced over her shoulder, pausing in tying on her mask. If she noticed the way Eliot tensed up, she didn't say so.

"Dr. Savannah Walker. Now please, Mr. Ford, I'll let you know when I'm done."

---

Nate stood behind the couch, sipping whiskey flavored coffee and squinting down at Hardison's laptop.

"Okay, here we go. Savannah Walker," Hardison read off the screen, Sophie sat beside him reading over his shoulder. That usually drove him crazy but, considering the situation, he decided to cut her some slack.

This time.

"MD in Orthopedic surgery, PhD in Medical Biology, currently employed at…whoa."

"What?" Sophie asked, craning to see what he saw.

Hardison gave her a 'you're on my last nerve, woman' look and moved his laptop meaningfully.

"She's a private contractor."

"What does that mean?"

"Means she's too expensive for any hospital to keep on staff permanently," Nate answered. He gave the closed door on the other side of the room a thoughtful glance, "what else?"

"Yeah, it also means she's good. If she were a," Hardison paused, trying to think of a comparison the grifter would understand, "a fashion designer, she'd be Louis Vitton."

"Wow," she whispered to herself, "way to go Eliot."

"Dr. Walker is from a place called Left Boot, Texas." Hardison continued.

"I'm sorry, Left Boot?" Sophie raised her eyebrows incredulously.

The hacker nodded, "and as you might guess, it's a small town. Population estimated at about 500. Man, that's barely enough people to keep the gene pool from overlappin'," he slapped a few more keys and another window popped up on the small screen, "accepted to Brown _and _Columbia, extracurriculars up the wazoo, straight As, blah blah blah…oh here we go. She and her brother Colt Walker were raised by her father's sister and husband from the time she was nine years old. There's some sort of court file from the year before that mentions her, but it was sealed when the case was settled."

"Can you tell us what's in it?" Nate asked and Hardison threw him an irritated look.

"Where you not just listening? I said the records were _sealed_. You know, as in not available for viewing. Ever."

Nate just looked at him and Hardison rolled his eyes.

"Ordinarily, yes," he continued without acknowledging the noise of vindication Nate made, "_but _this time, no. The town is so small their records only went to computer five years ago. All the files from before that are on hard copy only."

Nate sighed, draining his mug, "alright. We know all we need anyway."

"Yeah," Sophie nodded, curling up in the corner of the couch and wrapping her hands around her cooling tea, "Parker's in good hands."

---

Savannah sighed deeply as she finished wrapping Parker's newly mended leg and quickly stripped her bloody gloves and pulled off her mask.

"Let's move her to the bed." She said quietly, taking hold of two corners of the sheet, motioning for Eliot to do the same. She counted and they lifted Parker's small, unconscious body as smoothly as possible.

"Okay," she nodded satisfied the young woman was in a semi-comfortable position. She glanced quickly at Eliot, who was watching the sleeping thief with a look of concern that she recognized.

"Wow," she said quietly, almost to herself, "just like old times."

Eliot's blue eyes locked on hers, his gut clenching at the look of sadness and regret on her face.

"Savannah I-"

She shook her head, and looked away.

"Not now. I'm too wired to think straight right now," she shook her trembling hands to illustrate and pressed them to her eyes, "The others can come in now. Tell them everything went well, I didn't see any signs of infection and I'm optimistic for her recovery." She glanced once more at her patient and started toward the bathroom, avoiding Eliot's gaze, "I'm gonna go get cleaned up."

Eliot stared after her and watched as she shut the door without a backwards glance and heard the lock slide into place. He sighed deeply and scrubbed his hands over his face.

What a mess he'd made of things.

---

Savannah sat on the toilet lid with her arms wrapped around herself, staring at the floor. She took several deep breaths, swallowing hard to get her breathing under control and closed her eyes.

She was well practiced at sobbing without making a sound, but it had been years since she wanted to cry out loud so badly. But she wouldn't allow it, refused to beleive he still had so much power over her.

And she took comfort in the lie.

With a deep breath, she stubbornly rose to her feet and went to the sink, splashing her face with cool water. When she looked up she glared at herself in the mirror.

"Unbelievable Savvy," she muttered, "three hours back into your life and he's reduced you to a hysterical pre-med intern."

---

The door to the bathroom opened and four heads swiveled to look at it.

Hardison and Sophie both sat on the bed with Parker.

Sophie was up by her head, stroking the blonde bangs in an accidental display of maternal affection while Hardison sat on the opposite side at the foot, looking like he was just barely restraining himself reaching out and touching her leg to be sure she was still there.

Nate sat at the desk, with the chair turned to look at the others, the lines of exhaustion on his face showing his years and an amount of concern for this team that he usually tried to keep under wraps.

Eliot was standing with his back to the wall, facing the door and the rest of the room all at once.

Wordlessly, Savannah went to her bag and began rummaging around in the outside pocket. Having found what she wanted, she walked over to Nate and held out two orange prescription bottles.

When she was closer Nate noticed her red rimmed eyes, and one didn't need as much practice with crying women as he had to know what that meant. He flicked his eyes toward Eliot but wasn't sure if the Hitter had seen.

"She's going to need to be on the IV of drugs and antibiotics for at least three more days," Savannah began, "but 45 can handle switching them out and checking her vitals. When she's off those she needs to take these," she handed him the first bottle, "with a meal twice a day to keep the pain under control."

She pushed the second bottle into his hand, "these are antibiotics. With an open fracture the risk of infection is very real and very big, so make sure she takes _all _of them. Once a day with something to drink. Um, remember to keep her hydrated and as comfortable as possible," she reached up and let her hair down from the bun so that it tumbled across her shoulders and glanced back at Parker.

"I wouldn't recommend moving her for at least three days, until she's off the IV, and don't expect her to be playing hopscotch any time soon. It's going to take months for her leg to fully heal, but it _will heal._"

Nate dipped his chin once. "Thank you," he said seriously, his voice rough, though from alcohol or denied tears, no one was quite sure.

Savannah gave him the first real smile she hadn't directed at Parker and nodded, before turning to collect her bag and leave the room.

Nate watched her go and was not surprised when Eliot immediately followed.

---

Eliot closed the door behind him, knowing his team was not above eavesdropping, and walked across the common living space to the door where Savannah was laying out a few IV bags on the table.

He deliberately came to a stop just outside her personal space. She wouldn't appreciate it if he surprised her so close and he wouldn't appreciate how she chose to show her disapproval.

Eliot reached up to scratch his neck, letting his eyes dance around the room for a moment, "Look, uh," he paused, feeling uncertain in front of a woman for the first time in years. Then again, Savannah wasn't just _any_ woman, "thanks. For…you know."

"The _hell_ I do," she slammed shut her suitcase full of medical supplies and whipped around to face him so fast there was no possible way she hadn't known he was there all along, "are you thanking me for saving your friend's leg after she fell off the side of a _building? _Or for risking my career and medical license for someone I don't know by performing surgery in a _hotel_ _room_? Or maybe you're thanking me for picking up your phone call at all when my assistant told me who was calling."

Eliot's eyes flashed, his self-consciousness forgotten, "tone it down, Savannah. What's your problem?"

"My prob-_my problem_? Ten years. You don't call. You don't write. You don't show up on my radar except to let me know you're alive every once in a while with a post card from another country," her fair cheeks flushed with anger.

"Logan is going to be nine soon and he only knows you from the other side of a web cam. And I don't know you at all. _That's _my problem," she gasped a breath and grabbed her bag, "don't call me asking for favors, okay? In fact, don't call me at all. You're out of free passes."

She was gone in a flourish of muttered swears and flying blonde hair and Eliot dropped his head back to look at the ceiling.

It was for her own good. Always for her good. But maybe he'd been wrong.

---

The suite was all but silent the rest of the evening. The team whispered to eachother when communication called for it, even though they knew in her drug induced slumber Parker would never hear them. It felt wrong to talk out loud. Later, after room service had been ordered and their remaining energy exhausted, they all silently agreed to go to bed.

Around 3am Eliot was alone sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea. Even 90 minutes of sleep would have been optimistic for him that night, and he stared out the window at the city lights in deep thought.

The door on the far side of the suite, the one where they were keeping Parker, opened and revealed a sleep wrinkled Hardison. He paused slightly when he saw the hitter sitting at the dimly illuminated kitchen table, but didn't seem surprised.

He silently went to the sink and got himself a cup of water and Eliot didn't look at him until he slid into a seat beside him at the table. And even then it was only a glance.

After several minutes, the hacker broke the silence, "I um, I just wanted to say thanks, man."

Eliot raised his mug to his lips to take another sip, not responding.

"I mean for um, for calling an ex in to take care of Parker. I, uh, I know it wasn't easy." Hardison stumbled over his words and watched out of the corner of his eye as Eliot set his mug down slowly, his eyes still staring blankly at the wall.

"She's not an ex, Hardison," the hitter admitted quietly, "she's my sister."

_TBC - Awww. Look at that cute little button down there. Dontcha just wanna poke it? Go on. Poke it...  
_


	3. It's About Eliot

**A/N:** Wow wow wow!! You guys are the freakin' best!! THIRTEEN reviews!! That's a personal record for me for this fandom for sure, and maybe in general! I almost went a different direction with the title that would've given away the twist, but I'm SO glad i didn't! **_GeneralGambit, MissGuenever, spnchick, onepiecefreec, Wah-Keetcha _**_(haha, glad I took you by surprise! I can't imagine somebody hating Eliot anyway. ::shrug:: Thank you for feeding my addiction, by the way)_**_ hockeyfan6868, lwhilley, cowza, Mayhem21, MusicEstVita, TexasPrissy, NAVILLUS, luna-pendragon_**. You guys are the absolute best EVER. Seriously. In fact, I'm sending you all cyber chocolate Eliot figures to thank you. Check your inboxes. ;-) Enjoy! - pj

In the months to come everyone knew better than to bring up the mysterious doctor while Eliot was around, but the threat of bodily harm was not enough to keep them from discussing amongst themselves. Sophie spent most of her time making sure Parker didn't pull her stitches 'because it was hot and she wanted to open a window' and she especially liked to fill long nights with whispered conversations of sales at Talbots and museum openings and whether Eliot and his sister got their eyes from their mother or their father.

Still, it wasn't as if it mattered all _that _much. It wasn't likely they'd ever see her again. Eliot had kept her a secret this long, he wasn't just going to start bringing her around.

But when they lost contact with Eliot in the middle of a job in Virginia, with only the sound of painful gasps and shouted curses coming across his com, the likelihood of their paths crossing with the young Dr. Walker again someday suddenly went up exponentially.

"Eliot! Eliot wake up!" Hardison smacked not-all-that-lightly at his friend's bruised cheek, unashamed of the anxiety in his voice.

By the time they got to him Eliot was bleeding everywhere, bent at odd angles, multi-colored and unconscious.

So, yeah, the hacker was a little anxious.

"_Wake up_, man."

Parker's legs were acting as the Hitter's pillow as he lay splayed out among them in the back of the van. She didn't speak, but left hand kept up a steady rhythm of smoothing his matted, bloody hair away from his face and while the other hand subtly snaked into his broken one.

If anyone noticed her tears they didn't say so.

Nathan ran around the back of the van after helping load Eliot in and jumped into the driver's seat, speeding away from the area with bullets ricocheting off the tinted panels.

"C'mon Hardison, help me with this," Sophie ordered, sounding surprisingly calm for the situation. The hacker looked up and took the roll of gauze she held out to him to help her wrap a bullet wound on Eliot's leg, trying to stem the flow of blood.

"God," Sophie squeaked, her trembling hands reaching out and then pulling back from touching three clearly broken fingers on Eliot's left hand, "what kind of monsters were these men?"

"The kind that don't like having their hostage stolen," Nate answered from the front and they all braced themselves and Eliot as he whipped around a corner and through a stop sign, "get him patched up best you can, we'll work on something more permanent when we get to the safe house."

Sophie took a deep breath and nodded, though Nate couldn't see her, and she and Hardison focused their attention on recalling enough of the emergency medical training Eliot had forced on them to try and keep the man alive until they could come up with something better.

---

"There's has to be something we can do. Look at him! He looks like…" Sophie trailed off, shaking her head and covering her eyes.

"Like he was captured and tortured for information for 18 hours." Parker finished for her flatly, a small frown on her brow and her unwillingness to take her eyes off the hitter for even a moment the only outward display of her worry.

Truth be told, Eliot looked better now than he had in the van. He was lying on the back bed in the luxurious RV, his wounds bandaged as best as they could get them with Parker holding an ice pack against his face.

But none of them knew how to do stitches and Eliot's training hadn't included assessing someone for internal bleeding or concussions or any of the other multiple things that could be going wrong with him in that moment.

Hardison sat at the small attached table across from the 'kitchen' while Sophie paced the length of the vehicle, Nate sitting up front at the wheel.

"Look we can't go to a hospital, alright?" Nate said, his voice tinged with impatience and regret, "those guys are out looking for him and this city is clearly much deeper in Dubnikov's pocket than we originally thought. We can't risk them finding him while he's drugged up and vulnerable in a hospital bed."

"Well we have to do something!" Parker shouted, finally whipping around to look at their leader.

Nate sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. He nodded.

"Yeah, we do. Hardison."

The hacker looked up from where had moved to stand beside Eliot's bed, resisting the urge to check the man's pulse. Again.

"Yeah?"

"I need you to find someone for me."

---

"Dr. Walker."

Nate couldn't help the slight gasp of relief he felt when the woman's voice came on the line. He threw a quick nod at Sophie and she relaxed her grip on the steering wheel.

"Doctor, it's Nathan Ford."

There was a short pause and then an uncertain, "I'm sorry, who?"

Nate pinched the bridge of his nose, an excuse to close his eyes against Hardison and Parker's unyielding stares.

"Uh, we met, uh, about six months ago. In a hotel room in Chicago."

This time the pause was punctuated by the sudden absence of ruffling papers and a chair squeak.

From behind a large, maple desk in an office with a view, Savannah dropped her pen and looked up.

"I remember," she said, pushing her bangs off her forehead, "is it Parker's leg?"

She hadn't heard from any of them after she left, not that she'd expected to, but she would have thought the small woman would be completely healed by now. And, more than likely, back to doing what had gotten her the injury in the first place.

"No-"

She jumped in before he could continue. Something in her gut told her she didn't want to hear what else the man had to say.

"Then I don't see what we have to talk about Mr. Ford."

Nate heard the curt, businesslike tone replace the formerly polite one and took a deep breath.

"It's about Eliot."

Savannah held her breath and closed her eyes.

Her gut was rarely wrong.

---

"I don't know about this Nate." Sophie stood beside him chewing her thumbnail nervously.

"Sophie, we've already been over this we can't go to the hosp-"

"I know. Not about that," she dismissed his comment, "but…don't you feel a bit…"

Nate looked at her, "what?"

Sophie shrugged and glanced at him quickly.

"No one should have to see their brother like this Nate," Her eyes drifted over to the 'bedroom' area where Parker was curled up in a ball just barely far enough over not to be touching Eliot's battered body. Where Hardison was standing to the side, arms folded, keeping watch over them both. Sophie shook her head.

"No one."

_TBC - __Hit the button, smack the button, click the button, stab the button...just somehow apply pressure to the button and tell me what you thought! :)_


	4. Better Left Unsaid

**A/N:** Whoa, are you guys like, trying to outdo yourselves or something?? lol, it's freakin awesome! SEVENTEEN REVIEWS!!! Seriously, you guys are my heros. I don't even think I can express it...my flippin' heros. If I could clone Christian Kane (or your particular brand of hottie) and send each and every one of you your very own...I would. _**NAVILLUS**_**_, _****_kanefan892, PurpleSpinx, Barbara P., SuzSeb, sati, spnchick, Petpolka, MusicEstVita, Anon, simplygloomy, vickyloka, Mayhem21, GeneralGambit, luna-pendragon, xxdevil9xx_**.- This one is dedicated to you guys. Enjoy! - pj

"He's coming around," Hardison announced, kneeling beside the bed to get closer to his friend, "Eliot, can you hear me?"

"Hardison, stand back," Nate ordered, entering the small space and pulling the man up out of Eliot's space, "you remember when he had that concussion in Brazil?"

Hardison's eyes defocused in memory and then sharpened. He reached up to touch his nose.

"Yeah."

"Move aside, Parker," Sophie ordered quietly, producing a cool wet cloth and scooting onto the bed in the theif's place to press it gingerly against Eliot's forehead.

"Sophie," Nate warned.

"I'll be fine," she waved him off and spoke quietly to the hitter, "Eliot? Are you there?"

Eliot's head moved slowly from side to side and his brow furrowed in what could have been described as discomfort, but his eyes didn't open.

A moment later, he stopped moving and their shoulders slumped.

"Hey, how'd you get in here?"

Parker had turned to leave but stopped abruptly. Her body tensed, almost squared up and Nate, Sophie and Hardison took their eyes off Eliot to follow her gaze.

There, in dark jeans and a frilly purple blouse, her hair down on her shoulders, stood Savannah walker.

Her eyes were wide and locked on Eliot, one hand hovering in front of her face as if she'd been about to cover her mouth but stopped halfway.

"Door was open," Savannah answered Parker, never looking up. She had gathered by Nate's urgent phone call that what had happened was serious. The two hour drive to the place he indicated had been spent trying to prepare herself, mentally and emotionally, for what she would find.

It was bad enough she never saw her brother, she wasn't sure how she would react to seeing him in the condition Nate had described.

Broken fingers. Head wound. Bruises. Burns. Bullet lodged in his leg.

It had all been so clinical on the phone. So textbook.

But now, standing there, seeing it first hand…

"Oh my god," she whispered. Nate and Hardison silently stepped out of the way as she approached the bed, coming to stand just beside his head, "what happened to you, 45?"

Head wound was an understatement. All of the hair on the right side of his head was plastered to his skull with dried blood and she could only assume the wound under the white gauze and bandage would need stitches.

His cheek was bruised and his eyes already starting to swell shut, at least two fingers on his right hand and three on his left were broken as well as cylindrical burns on his arms that she recognized as being from cigars.

She silently thanked God his shirt was still on, she had no doubt more injuries were hiding underneath it, and his left thigh was wrapped thick and tight in bandages not to mention the small, singed holes on the jeans of his left.

"Can you help him?" Parker was the first to break the silence, standing in the corner, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Savannah blinked and looked up, her honey eyes taking in the haggard group in one glance.

"Are you _serious_?" she hissed, glancing back down and Eliot and then back up incredulously at Nate, "look at him! He needs x-rays, a CT scan, a team of doctors and nurses and quite possibly a psychiatric evaluation. He needs a _hospital_."

She threw her hands in the air and looked at Sophie, who had moved to the edge of the bed, and then Hardison, who looked to be somewhere between disbelieving and irate.

"And even if I were going to do this I can't operate in a RV. Are you all completely insane?"

"Savannah."

A rough voice interrupted her tirade and all five heads whipped around to look at Eliot, who's eyes had opened to slits.

He looked up at his sister, as much as he could with as swollen as his face was, his voice heart achingly weak but still firm and focused.

Parker looked at Nate meaningfully. She knew that voice. It was his 'I'm downplaying my injuries for your sake' voice.

"Just do it Savvy." Eliot murmured.

She shook her head, "I can't."

Eliot blinked slowly and looked at her again, somehow managing to convey stubbornness and the universal 'I'm older than you so do what I say' glare without moving a single muscle on his face.

"Fine. I will," Savannah acceded, biting her lip as her eyes flooded with tears, "but if you die you sorry son of a bitch…"

"Hey," he cut her off quietly, "don't talk about our momma like that."

Her smile couldn't push past her worry and her mouth stayed pressed in a thin line, "Okay. Have it your way, 45. You always do."

Savannah got up to get her gear from the car, brushing her hand across his arm lightly as she did. Eliot fought the pull of blackness long enough to turn and send a look at Nate. The one that said _I'll be okay _and _are you all alright? _and _take care of them _all at once.

Nate just dipped his chin, giving him all the answers in a single gesture.

_You better be, we're fine _and_ I will._

When Savannah returned she was back in doctor mode, starting an IV on the now unconscious Eliot while giving out orders.

"You two," she pointed at Parker and Sophie, "out. I would suggest getting some rest and food but that's up to you. Nate, you and-"

"Wait a second," Parker stepped forward, "why do we have to go?"

"Because it's what he would want," she gestured toward Eliot, "I don't know what my brother is now but he was raised a gentleman and he's not going to what you here while I strip him down and clean up. Hell, he wouldn't want me here but that's not really an option so," she shrugged and turned to pull her hair up, wondering if there was a way to increase the light in the small room.

"You, what's your name?"

"Alec," Hardison said, giving her a weary look. He knew she was the best at what she did, and knew that, Eliot being her brother, she would do whatever she could to save him but the way she could flip the switch between emotional and composed so quickly made him uneasy.

It reminded him of Parker.

"Okay Alec, I need you to get me towels and warm water." She turned to Nate, and motioned at his jacket while she pulled scrubs on over her clothes, "take that off. Put these on," she tossed a pair of scrubs at him, "and help me get his clothes off so I can see what I'm dealing with."

Nate followed her directions wordlessly. Sophie, Hardison and Parker were suspicious and guarded enough for all of them, and this woman was doing them a favor. The way he saw it, you didn't harass people who were doing you favors.

Savannah stood on the other side of the bed, a frown pinched between her eyebrows as she carefully poked and prodded her way up Eliot's legs to his torso, looking for signs of broken bones and internal bleeding. Nate carefully cleaned Eliot's open wounds, slathering on ointments and antibiotics and wrapping them in gauze the way she instructed for more than ten minutes.

But that didn't mean he didn't see her hands trembling.

"You okay?" he asked quietly. He'd grown used to his paternal role in the team and was pretty sure Eliot would appreciate his at least asking the question.

She nodded immediately, "fine."

Her fingers deftly continued their work and Nate nodded, willing to let lie go if it helped her focus.

When her hand paused lovingly at Eliot's hairline, smoothing the brown locks back he tried again.

"Want me to tell you what happened?"

Savannah pulled her hand back as if burned and she glanced at the bruises mottling his face and chest.

She shook her head.

"No."

---

"Why didn't Eliot ever tell us he had a sister?" Parker asked accusingly, standing in the open RV door, staring out at the empty, abandoned parking lot that subtly changed into brown, muddy construction site.

"Probably the same reason you didn't tell us about your brother," Hardison said quietly. His laptop was open in front of him but nothing was on the screen.

Parker shot him a scathing glance over her shoulder and he shrugged.

"No, that's not why." Sophie sat on the small couch fingering the beading on her blouse, staring at nothing.

"Eliot basically makes enemies for a living." She blinked and looked at them, "he did it to protect her."

Parker dropped her gaze, thinking.

"I guess that makes sense." Hardison acquiesced quietly, his gaze traveling to the closed panels of the back bedroom.

"Whatever," Parker sat down on the step, stretching her legs out into the sun, "I still don't like it."

---

"Wipe." Savannah said, indicating that Nate should wipe away some of the blood dribbling down the incision so she could see better.

Nate did. He was glad he had a relatively strong stomach, because watching Savannah dig around inside Eliot's leg, looking for a bullet, was definitely pushing him to the brink.

"I think I see it. Forceps."

He reached for the tool she indicated and handed them to her. A moment later she was dropping a small metal bullet into a ceramic mug Nate held out for her.

They both sighed in relief.

"I can um," she glanced up at Nate, their eyes the only part of their faces peeking out between their masks and hair nets, "I can take it from here. Why don't you go give them an update."

Nate nodded, straightening and his back cracked.

"What do I tell them?" He asked, the careful hope reflected plainly in his eyes, even to an unpracticed observer like Savannah.

"Tell them…I've done all I can."

---

Savannah sat in the small bump-out window seat of the bedroom, her legs folded up to her chest, arms wrapped around them and her chin resting on her knees.

Barefoot and ponytailed, she stared over at Eliot's prone form, still unconscious. He was cleaned, stitched and covered up to be decent when the girls came back in. She'd disposed of her gloves and things a while ago but couldn't bring herself to leave the room just yet.

It was just too much.

Ten years with nary a word except a web-cam conversation with his nephew on his birthday, and then _this_.

The bruises. The scars. Barely healed broken bones.

She'd never wanted to see him looking like this ever again.

But what troubled her most weren't all the new injuries. It was the _old _ones. Or, more specifically, older than the ones she'd been brought in to deal with, but newer than the ones she remembered.

Savannah shook her head and dropped her chin to her chest, letting out a ragged breath.

A whisper fell from her lips and she tightened the hold she had on herself.

"How can you do this to me?"

_TBC - __You wouldn't want it to end there, right? :)_


	5. Explain Some Things

**A/N:** Huge thanks, as always to my reviewers. **_TexasPrissy, LilOrchidJenny, luna-pendragon, simplygloomy_** (you gotta create a login so I can respond to your reviews!) and _**Mayhem21**_ you are the wind beneath my...wait. No. Okay...you are the oreo cookies that fuel my muse. Yeah. That works...The whole '45' thing is explained in this chap for those of you that have been wondering about it. I just liked the nickname so I stuck it in, no real plot importance. lol. Can't wait to hear from you all, enjoy! - pj

---

When Savannah opened the door and entered the main part of the RV, which she hadn't noticed before but was really quite nice with the leather couches and maple cabinets, all four people waiting outside turned to look at her. Parker immediately turned away again, though, slapping her hands down into the dishwater in the sink and coming out with a plate.

Savannah sighed, rubbing her palms on her jeans, "he's still under, probably will be for at least another few hours."

"Is he going to be alright?" Sophie asked eagerly.

The blonde shrugged helplessly and swallowed, "like I told Nate, I did everything I could. I still think he needs a hospital, just to be sure but…yeah, I think he's gonna be okay."

The tension in the room seemed to lessen just a bit when she said that and she took the opportunity to go over to her black bag sitting on the counter in front of the TV and pulled out the same types of bottles she'd prescribed for Parker. She set them down and then walked over to Nate, holding out another.

"Sedative. He's pretty much insufferable when he's injured. He won't sit still like he's supposed to so give him these or he'll walk with a limp for the rest of his life."

He looked at her and nodded, wondering what the repercussions of slipping Eliot tranquilizers would be when the hitter figured it out. Probably not very pleasant.

In the silence that descended Savannah returned to her black bag and slung it up over her shoulder. "Have him um…tell him," she stumbled over her words and Nate realized that not once since she'd left Eliot in the bedroom had her 'all business, I'm in control' tone invaded her voice. And she couldn't look any of them in the eye.

"Just have him call me, will you?" she glanced at Nate, "I know you have my number so…" She nodded once as if that finished the thought and turned toward the door.

"You aren't going to stay and make sure he wakes up?" Parker asked, suddenly appearing beside Hardison, her hands dripping on the marble floor.

Savannah paused with her back still turned, "no need. He'll wake up," she added quietly, "he always does."

"You have to stay," Parker insisted, "it's what families do." She glanced at Hardison for confirmation of her statement, and at his nod, drew her shoulders back, emboldened.

Savannah just shook her head.

"Look, Savannah," Sophie stood, keeping her voice calm and low, "maybe it's none of our business, but…Eliot is a good man. He may not always do the right thing, but it's always for the right reason. Maybe you should stay."

The woman stayed quiet for several moments and Nate and Hardison exchanged a glance.

"You're right," she said finally, looking up and holding Sophie's gaze, "it's none of your business." She said, and finished slipping on her shoes, her hair falling from behind her ear to hide her face.

Parker took another step forward, shaking her head vigorously, "No! You don't get it. You don't get to walk out. Eliot deserves better. He protects us."

At that, Savannah stopped moving and slowly lifted her head. She looked from Parker's determined face to Sophie's understanding one, from Nate's carefully neutral expression to Hardison's obviously conflicted one.

"What is it, exactly, that you all do? That…'Eliot' does."

Parker looked at Hardison, Hardison at Sophie and Sophie at Nate, who took his queue without batting an eye.

"We pick up where the law leaves off. Give people with no legal authority the leverage they need to get what they deserve." He motioned around the group, "Hacker, grafter, thief, mastermind."

Savannah bit her lip thoughtfully, "And 45?"

"He's the hitter. The muscle."

She nodded, but her frown stayed firmly in place.

"We help people, Savannah, you should be proud of him for that," Sophie explained.

"Proud of him? For stealing and conning," Savannah said, sounding unimpressed.

"He keeps us safe," Parker shouted suddenly and Hardison laid a hand on her arm, which she immediately jerked away from, "If Sophie gets burned or Hardison gets traced or I get cornered or Nate can't outsmart the bad guy and things are going south Eliot is the one who…he's the one who," she frowned, trying to find the right words to describe it.

"He takes the punishment," Savannah finished, looking none of her educated, assertive, grown woman self. She looked young. Haunted.

She shook her head, the shadowed look in her eyes disappearing when the shutters slammed down over them, "well he certainly did this time, didn't he?" She turned back toward the door.

"How can you just leave? After everything?" Parker demanded, something sharp and dangerous in her eyes.

Savannah's knuckles were white from her grip on the door handle.

"He's a thief." She answered simply.

"A retrieval specialist." Sophie corrected and Savannah whirled around.

"What's the hell is the difference?" she demanded hotly, "he breaks the law, doesn't he? He hurts people, doesn't he? I'm a doctor. I spend my life undoing things people like him have done."

"A thief steals things," Parker said, she looked both exasperated and pleading as she explained, "a retrieval specialist steals them _back_."

Savannah frowned, "what do you mean?"

"Sometimes it's an object, like a painting or artifact. Something the owner probably wasn't supposed to have in the first place but isn't about to part with easily. They hire a retrieval specialist to get their property back because the law isn't going to help them," Sophie explained slowly, gently, "sometimes the retrieval mark is - a person."

Savannah looked taken aback, "a person?"

"Kidnapping is a very lucrative business." Hardison clarified, his tone seeming to say 'I don't like it any more than you do, that's just how it is'.

"Eliot does good things. Like you," Parker said, taking a half a step back to shrug into Hardison, her outburst all but forgotten.

Savannah blinked at them, the air in the vehicle suddenly thick and too heavy.

"Hell of a team you got here, 45," she muttered.

Hardison wound his arm across Parker's shoulders and Sophie took a deep breath, pushing her tears back down where they belonged.

"More than a team, Savannah."

The woman let her eyes drift from one face to another, memorizing these people. This team.

This _family _her brother had made for himself.

She pursed her lips and nodded, "just have him call me, okay?" and before anyone could stop her she whipped open the door and left, trying hard not to look like she was running.

---

Three and a half hours later the team was in various sprawled positions around the RV after Nate had driven them to a new location for the night.

Hardison sat at the kitchen table with his laptop out, his hands splayed across the spacebar and arrow keys as he defended his fort from invading zombies.

Nate was nursing a drink on one sofa, his eyes trained blearily on the television while Sophie stretched out on the other, not seeing it at all.

"Here." Parker returned from one of the other bedrooms with a brown folder and dropped it onto Nate's chest.

"What is this?"

"That sealed file from Savannah's record that Hardison couldn't hack." She explained, jumping up to sit on the counter.

Nate sat up and saw that the seal on the file had not been broken.

"You didn't read it?"

"No."

He waited, but she didn't expound. He looked back down at the file and then stood, shaking his head. "No."

"No?" Parker repeated.

"No. I'm not gonna open it. You know how Eliot is. He likes his privacy," he glanced at Parker and then Sophie, "he should be the one to tell us what's in this file."

"But, what if he needs something from us?"

"What if it can help us understand him better?" Sophie chimed in.

"I mean, I already stole it we might as well..."

"Yeah, she already stole…wait. When did you do that anyway?"

Nate's brows furrowed and he turned to the hacker, who had been conspicuously silent throughout the girls' exchange.

"Hardison."

He looked up, briefly, "yeah?"

"Why aren't you pressuring me to see what's in this file?" Nate tilted his head, leaning his palms on the table almost inside the other man's space.

Hardison thought about lying, but knew it would be useless.

"Because I already know what's in that file."

Sophie and Parker crowded around him.

"What?"

"I thought you couldn't hack it!"

Nate just narrowed his eyes, "when did he tell you?"

Hardison clasped his hands and pressed them to his lips, "right after she came and worked on Parker's leg. I got up to get some water, he was out at the table," he shrugged, "I don't know why but he just…started talking."

"Well what did he say?" Sophie asked, her eyebrows raised expectantly.

Hardison shifted, uncomfortable with the idea of breaking Eliot's confidence when there were so many things that Eliot could break on him in retaliation.

"Cliff-notes version," Nate suggested, seeing the hacker's uneasiness.

Hardison sighed, "basically, their dad died when Savannah was young, their stepdad was an asshole, and their mom wasn't much better. Eliot used to protect his sister and take the worst of it himself. One day, when she was eight years old, Savannah witnessed her stepfather beating Eliot into a coma. The guy was some kinda hunter, kept guns all over the house."

He paused significantly and Nate got the feeling there was more to those guns being all around the house than simply 'hunting'. Intimidation most likely, a constant reminder.

"Savannah grabbed one of his guns and shot him. Killed him." Hardison dropped his gaze, seeing the various looks of shock on his teammates faces, "the court ruled that she be placed in therapy and they were both put into the care of their aunt and uncle and the records were sealed to protect them."

Sophie's hand was covering her mouth, her eyes wide and disbelieving. Nate went to pour himself another drink.

Parker narrowed her eyes in concentration.

"I guess that leaves just one question," she said stroking her chin thoughtfully.

"And that would be?" Nate prompted.

"And that would be: why does Savannah call Eliot '45'?"

The team nodded, just as curious on that subject as Parker was. They'd all noticed the strange nickname, but hadn't had time to question either sibling on the subject.

"Because my name's not Eliot."

They all jumped, startled by the rough voice behind them and turned to see the hitter, in sweatpants and a tank top, leaning heavily against the door frame of the back bedroom. The swelling on his face was impressive, and bandages covered various parts of his visible body, but at least he could see out of both eyes.

"It's Colt," Eliot started to fidget, uncomfortable under the concerned scrutiny of his teammates, but remembered his injuries and thought better of it, "like Colt 45. Somebody started calling me 45 as a kid. It stuck."

"Ha!" Parker barked a laugh, but no one stopped to wonder what was so amusing. Sophie and Haridson immediately busied themselves with herding the hitter back into bed despite the man's protests that he was 'fine' and 'needed a drink of water' and 'if you don't get your damn hands off me I'll break 'em off _you_'.

Nate sighed as he reached for the small orange bottle of sedatives on the counter and poured Eliot a glass of water.

Downing the remaining whiskey in his mug, he started back toward the bedroom.

"Do you _always _have to do things the hard way?"

---

_TBC - __Oh just look at that button, looking at y'all with that sad, neglected look on it's face...except for you _luna-pendragon,_ it's looking at you kind of scared...don't you want it to feel loved? Go on, click it...do it for the button__ :)_


	6. Watch What You Say

**A/N:** Thank you, thank you very much, tx!, thanks...I don't even know how else to say it. You're the best!! I wanted to update yesterday, but was just too darned tired. So here it is today! I wanted to tell you guys, the reason I update so quickly is because I get so many reviews so quickly. I would update regardless, of course, but when I have a dozen or so reviews the very next day and the next part is already written it's like 'why hold off?' so yeah. You guys are as much a part of this as I am. Thank YOU. _**Ivory Greed, MissGuenever, TexasPrissy, celticmoongoddess87, Petpolka, SimplyGloomy, luna-pendragon, YanxChick, Mayhem21, spnchick, SuzSeb, vickyloka, seastarr, **_all reviewed last chap and therefore are my new best friends.

By the way, I'm on livejournal now and will be posting, among other strangeness, where I'm at in writing fics and any new ones i have up my sleeve...er...hard drive. If you're interested in the inside scoop, look me up! **pdljmpr-armada** on lj and **Armada_Sloane** on twitter but mostly I just post random randomocity on there. lol.

Now, on to the good stuff. Enjoy! - pj

---

Savannah stood shifting outside Eliot's door. He hadn't told her where he lived, but once she knew the name he was going by it hadn't been hard to find.

She reached up and knocked, liking the cold metal sound it made and how solid it felt beneath her hands. Solid was a pleasant feeling after the week and a half of uncertainty she'd just been through.

"I'll get it." She heard him call from inside, then a moment later again, this time a bit annoyed, "I said I'm gettin' it!"

She frowned slightly, she'd only knocked once, but didn't get the chance to ponder over it before the peephole darkened. A second later the sound of at least a half-dozen locks sliding out of place made her frown and the door was swung open to reveal a grumpy, but fully upright and functioning, Eliot.

"Savannah." He said quietly, as if he hadn't expected her to really be standing there.

His muscle shirt and sweat pants showed off many of the bruises and burns on his arms and the bruise on his cheek, now turned a sickly yellowish color, along with the large head wound she'd stitched up were hidden behind curtains of hair.

She looked away quickly, the picture of bravado with her arms crossed over her chest, her left leg bouncing nervously and her expression a cross between uneasy and determined.

"What are you-"

"Can I come in?" she interrupted and shoved past him before he could answer.

Eliot's eyebrows knitted together and he closed the door, his blue eyes tracking her movements closely.

She wore a casual plaid top, boot cut jeans and much less makeup than the last two times he'd seen her. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, she wore sneakers and black nail polish and she looked so much like a fifteen-year-old version of herself that he shook his head to clear the thought. Then he braced himself against the wall briefly when the world tilted.

_Still too soon for sudden head movements. Got it. _

Savannah hadn't seen his momentary lapse in control so he answered as if it hadn't happened._  
_

"Um, sure. I guess so, but I have some-" he started to motion toward the hallway but she cut him off.

"How are you healing?" She asked. The edge in her tone coupled with the way she didn't seem too keen on letting him even finish a sentence made him narrow his eyes and clench his teeth.

"Fine." He said. He could've elaborated. Told her his head was still killing him anytime he rose higher than a sitting position and his ribs and thigh, hell his whole body, protested all movement, but it was nothing he couldn't handle so he kept quiet.

Savannah's eyes darted to him and then quickly moved away. Barely ten days had passed since Nate had called her and he was clearly still in pain, holding himself carefully and moving deliberately.

Her stomach was knotting up again so she looked around at the large open loft in an attempt to distract herself. It had big windows that looked out at the city with million dollar views, exposed beams and a large kitchen that flowed effortlessly into the main living space. Without any walls one could see the front door and the fire exit from almost anywhere in the great room, she noticed, and she wasn't surprised.

He had always been cagey.

Eliot watched as Savannah walked further into the room and he glanced toward the kitchen, confused when he didn't see anyone.

His team had a tendency to be overprotective, especially of him, though that didn't make the slightest bit of sense to Eliot considering _he_ was the one usually doing the protecting, but he was usually too tired when the subject came up to argue with them so it had become habit.

Parker, Hardison, Nate and Sophie had all been scattered around his living room only moments ago. He'd motioned for them to leave when he realized who was at the door, but just because he couldn't see them didn't mean they'd actually gone.

"Good. Glad to hear it," she nodded, her sharp, agitated movements negating her seemingly polite words, "would hate to think any of that damage was permanent."

Eliot blew out a breath, "C'mon Savvy, don't be like that-"

"Be like what?" She asked with an overly innocent look. She shook her hair out of her face and gave him a jagged smile, "this is my natural state _Eliot_," she gave emphasis to the alias and her eyes flashed.

"I don't know if you were aware but, I'm a bitch," she continued acerbically, "You don't get to be a surgeon as highly respected as I am, at my age, by winning congeniality contests," she turned to pace away, and wanting to have something to do with her hands while she spoke, picked up a book sitting on the large, heavy wood dining table, "But then, you probably wouldn't know any of that since you haven't seen me since I was sixteen years old but, you know, whatever." She slammed the book back down, not really seeing any of it, and looked at him.

Eliot sighed and pushed some hair out of his face, unwittingly showing off the healing bruises there. Savannah caught the flinch before it reached her face.

"Sav-" he started.

"_What_?" She interrupted sharply, cocking her head to one side.

Eliot stopped in whatever he'd been about to say and narrowed his eyes, taking note of her more carefully. She was agitated, yes, and pissed. Furious even, but there was something else. She was jittery, out of breath, her eyes kept darting around and…

Then it hit him. He recognized that look.

She had been fourteen the last time he saw it, the anniversary of the day she'd killed their stepfather to save him and she'd been home alone for some god-forsaken reason.

It was the same edgy, nervous energy, the same lookin'-for-a-fight attitude from all those years ago.

"Savannah, are you drunk?" Eliot asked quietly, taking a small step forward.

She blinked at him and folded and unfolded her arms, "No," a pause, "a little…" She looked away guiltily, "buzzed maybe."

Eliot pursed his lips, feeling anger well up to replace his concern and annoyance.

She shrugged, continuing uninterrupted, "It's a nice bar you have, you know, down there," she gestured toward the floor and turned away slightly to look at the opposite wall. Eliot forced his muscles to relax because it was painful to do otherwise.

"Savannah, where's Logan?" He demanded, frowning fully now.

She turned a dark look on him and then smiled coolly, "Oh he's still downstairs. He was chatting up a waitress; I didn't wanna cramp his style."

Eliot glared at her and she rolled her eyes.

"He's staying the night at a friend's house, okay? Thanks for the vote of confidence in my parenting abilities though, 45, really. But I'm not a _complete_ screw-up." She clenched her teeth and turned her gaze back to the wall of bookshelves, an excuse not to look at him.

"You're not a screw-up," Eliot countered quietly, having the grace to look contrite for making the assumption. His eyes slipped toward the hallway to his right and he shifted on his feet, his leg starting to throb as his painkillers wore off.

"Oh really?" she countered, but didn't expound.

They stood like that, he by the door, she further toward the middle of the room, in a tense silence for a moment each waiting for the other to make the next move.

"Savvy, why don't you just sit down for a minute."

"_Don't_ tell me what to do, okay?!" she exploded and Eliot winced slightly. Obviously she was still a bit moody when drunk. Their mother had been that way too, he remembered.

"You lost that right a long time ago so don't stand there and pretend like you care."

"I do care!" Eliot shot back, forgetting that they undoubtedly had an audience as he crossed the room to stand directly in front of her, thrusting a splinted finger at her to emphasize his point, "I _always_ cared."

Savannah's eyes grew glassy, but she didn't seem afraid of his outburst. She didn't know enough about him to be afraid.

Or perhaps she knew too much.

"You got a funny way of showing it."

"Savannah," he said, but it came out more like a plea than a name. He ran a hand through his hair and she shook her head.

"You're a real bastard, you know that?" she said without venom.

Eliot opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by an indignant outcry from the kitchen.

"Hey!"

Both their heads snapped over and they saw Parker had popped up from behind the kitchen island, an offended look on her face.

"Don't call him that."

Savannah's eyes widened and she gave Eliot a murderous look.

"What the hell is this? You couldn't say something!?"

"You wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise," Eliot defended hotly.

Her look clearly indicated she didn't see that as an excuse and she thrust an accusatory finger at Parker, "are they all here?"

Someone cleared their throat meaningfully and they turned to see Nate, Sophie and Hardison meekly approaching from down the hall.

"We thought we'd give you some privacy," Sophie said, by way of explanation.

"Mm," Savannah nodded, "well that's funny because I don't usually define privacy as eavesdropping."

Eliot took a small step forward, "Hey, just back up the truck, okay Savannah? At least they were invited," which was sort of true. They all had something of a standing invitation at one another's' homes. Except Parker, but only because no one was entirely sure where she lived. "You're the one that just showed up and came right in."

Hurt flashed across her eyes but was quickly covered and she raised her hands in defense, "fine," she shook her head and turned to push past him, "_fine_. I'm outta here."

Eliot sighed, dropping his head back, feeling his ever-present headache start to tweak at his temples, then turned and caught his sister's arm just as she reached the door.

"Savannah don't. Don't do that."

"Don't touch me Colt!" she hissed, pulling roughly out of his grip and their blue gazes caught one another, both flushed and breathing hard, locked in a battle of wills.

After a few moments of tense silence, Sophie stepped forward, slowly retrieving her coat off the couch and glancing meaningfully over her shoulder at Nate and Hardison, "we should go."

Eliot sighed.

"Yeah, I think that would be a good idea," he agreed, never breaking eye contact with his sister.

"I don't want to go," Parker whispered not all that quietly as Hardison approached her.

"C'mon Parker," he took her by the shoulders, pushing her in front of him, "we'll go steal…something."

The blonde was momentarily distracted by the thought of her favorite pastime, but as the group carefully wove their way around the sibling standoff and moved toward the door she turned slightly to keep Eliot in her sights as long as possible.

"But he's not a bastard," Parker muttered, just as the door clicked shut behind them.

---

_TBC - __Hearing from you guys makes me fuzzy inside, in my special, happy place. :)_


	7. Sit Down, Have a Drink

**A/N:** Haha, I love hearing from you guys. Such interesting responses to the last chapter, everything from 'I just want Eliot and Savannah to make up' to 'are Parker and Savannah gonna fight?', lol. I guess we'll have to read on and see, won't we? _**seastarr, **_Wah-Keetcha, halfcent (I'll tell you what I told SimplyGloomy, you need a login so I can respond, girl...or boy. Whatver. lol) SimplyGloomy, TexasPrissy, Barbara P (you too need a login!), vickyloka, SiriusDoctorWhoHoney329, luna-pendragon, SuzSeb, all reviewed last chap and therefore are my new best friends. Don't forget to look me up on livejournal and twitter! Enjoy! - pj

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Savannah's eyes flickered to the floor but she didn't speak until several seconds after the door had clicked behind them and they were alone.

"Is that all of them?"

"Yeah."

She sighed, nodding, and wrapped her arms around herself backing away a few steps because his closeness was suddenly making it hard to breathe.

"So why am I a bastard?" Eliot asked quietly, rubbing a hand over his face, probing his bruising carefully.

Savannah just shook her head and turned to look out the window.

"C'mon Savannah," he coaxed, though it may have come across as bossy. He was tired and the pain meds were starting to wear off, and he felt he had the right to be a bit irritable _dammit_. "You came all the way here to talk so _talk_."

"What makes you think I came here to talk?" She asked, her accent growing thicker with emotion.

Eliot couldn't help feeling like they'd suddenly switched places. Now she was calm and quiet and he was the one who felt like he couldn't stand still.

That didn't surprise him. Of all the girls he'd ever known, no one could get under his skin like Savannah.

"Why else didja' come, huh? T'play Chess?"

She shook her head, fighting a smile. She'd always hated Chess.

"I jus' don't-" her voice caught and Eliot looked on quietly as she collected herself. With a deep breath she whipped around to face him, the fire back in her eyes.

That didn't surprise him either. Like him, Savannah had always found anger to be the easiest emotion to dwell on.

" I risk my career for you. I risk _everything _for you, and you go back to your vow of silence? I don't hear from you for six months?"

"Hey, you told me not to call you, remember?" Eliot interrupted, shifting off his sore leg. Savannah might listen to reason normally, sometimes, but in her current state, he doubted his point even made it across the room.

"I was _mad_. I always say things like that when 'm mad, you know that! And then I gotta get a call from that….that…._man, _Ford_, _that you've been kidnapped and beaten and tortured and I have to see you…like that…and I perform surgery on you, remove a _bullet_ from you _in the back of an_ _RV." _She was hysterical, pacing toward him, throwing her hands around violently. He stood his ground, made no moves to stop her.

Angry he could deal with. Pissed, he understood. Anything but sad.

Anything but tears.

"And I hafta be told by a bunch of…of _thieves _what a great person you are. And how you protect them and…and how you're a _family._" Her strong voice broke almost completely with the last word and she closed her eyes.

Eliot blinked. So _that's _why she was so upset.

"You built yourself a new family, Colt. That's why you're a bastard. You made a new family without me." She shook her head and started backing away from him, the anger melting off her face and leaving a look so wounded and young and hurt that it knocked the breath out of him.

"What did I do to drive you away?"

Eliot licked his lips, "You didn't do anythin' darlin'."

"Well I must have done _something_." She insisted, "because one minute I had a brother, and the next I didn't. You were there for _all_ the bad stuff. Sittin' in the closet with me, telling me stories so I wouldn't pay attention to the screamin' and the cryin' that was happ'nin outside. Takin' the punishment that was s'posed to be mine," she took a ragged breath and shook her hands the way she did when adrenalin was getting the best of her.

"And then when it was all over and things were _finally_ okay…you-you just left. You weren't there when I had Logan. You missed my graduation and when I was accepted to Brown. I couldn't call you the day I lost my first patient and almost quit being a doctor altogetha'," she drug her watery eyes back up to his and whispered brokenly, "What did I do to make you leave me?"

In that moment, Eliot hated himself.

And he decided he needed a drink.

Wordlessly, he turned and limped toward the kitchen. Savannah, shocked, dropped her arms and followed.

"What are you-"

She stopped, seeing the bottle of whiskey in his hand and the two short glasses in front of him. She looked on silently as Eliot poured a bit of the amber liquid into the first glass and slid it across the counter to her, then poured twice as much into the second glass, and drank it quickly with nary a wince.

"You shouldn't be drinkin' with the painkillers you're on," She said quietly, neither nagging nor bossy. Merely a statement of fact. Eliot found the lack of feeling in her voice was jarring against the emotional outburst from a moment before.

He tipped his head to one side in a sort of shrug, "'s never been a problem before."

Savannah frowned slightly and muttered as she brought the glass to her lips for a sip, "told Nate to keep you sedated."

Eliot's eyes narrowed, taking comfort in the inconsequential banter for a moment. "figures you're the one that gave him that idea."

When a small, mischievous smile crossed her face he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

God he was tired.

After a moment he took the bottle and empty glass in one hand and wordlessly walked around the island toward her. He motioned his head toward the couch and Savannah watched him limp across the room, following behind.

Eliot sank down into the leather first, unable to keep an exhausted sigh from escaping, his battered body more than thankful to be resting again. He closed his eyes and heard her shift several times on her feet before sinking down beside him, a few inches away so that they were not touching.

They stayed quiet for several minutes. Neither knowing how to get back to the matter at hand after such a calm, almost comfortable air had settled between them.

Eliot opened his eyes to refill his drink. She was clutching her glass too tightly, her eyes glazed and shadowed. He sighed.

"My leavin' had nothin' to do with you," he said finally, his voice rough and so quiet, if the apartment hadn't been completely silent she probably would have missed it.

"It's okay," she said, equally quiet.

He looked at her.

"It-it wasn't really the leaving that got to me, 45," she refused to raise her gaze to him, knowing she couldn't keep her composure if she did, "It was the not comin' back."

Eliot's eyes dropped to the ground, remembering having a similar conversation with Aimee only a year before. He frowned and leaned his head on the back of the couch rubbing his face.

He couldn't offer her the same assurance for that, because in reality, his 'not coming back' had had _everything _to do with her. He could never have forgiven himself if something had happened to Savannah because his job followed him home.

"I never meant to hurt you," he said, staring at the ceiling, and added quietly, "I was tryin' to keep that from happenin'."

She turned, risking a look at him and tucked one leg under herself, "what do you mean?"

He sighed, "I'm a thief, Savannah."

There was a pause and he wished he could find the energy to lift his head to look at her, to see what she was thinking.

"A retrieval specialist," she said after a moment, a note of uncertainty in her voice, as if she wasn't sure she'd gotten the terminology right, "you steal things _back_."

Eliot nodded, a smile kicking up the corner of his mouth. Obviously the team had told her more than he thought, "yeah. And sometimes…a lot of times, it's dangerous work. Savannah there's…" he paused, wondering how much of her perception of him he wanted to change, "there's a lot of people out there who would like to see me gone."

"Gone like…" she trailed off, hesitantly.

"Dead, Sav."

"Oh," she grew quiet again and he could hear her moving beside him and then the sound of glass on glass as she refilled her drink.

"And you thought to get to you, someone might come through me. Or Logan."

Eliot summoned the strength to lift his head and looked at her. Her eyes were clear again, to his relief, though he doubted the threat of tears had gone completely.

"Don't look so surprised. I watch movies."

He gave her a slightly sardonic smile and laid his head back down, "believe me, reality is much more…"

"Real?"

He snorted, "yeah."

"Oh."

Silence descended again and Eliot waited patiently. Contrary to popular belief he was actually capable of patience. Had to be, in his line of work.

"I guess I understand that. You always were trying to protect me," she said it in that half amused, half annoyed tone he remembered.

"It kept you alive, didn'it? You complainin'?" he said and covered a yawn, fighting sleep now that he was comfortable and relaxed.

"No I just…wish there had been another way," she said quietly.

He opened his eyes and turned slightly to look at her. She sat curled up against the arm of the couch, knees to her chest, staring at the almost empty bottle of Jack in her hands.

"Yeah, me too."

---

"Sophie will you just sit down?" Nate ordered grumpily. He was at the table, trying to concentrate on his drink but Sophie's constant moving and pacing was really making that impossible.

The grifter ignored him.

"Um, Hardison…you're sure you don't have any like microphones or surveillance or anything like that in Eliot's apartment?" Sophie asked hesitantly. The hacker and Nate both looked at her with wide eyes and she shrugged, she was curious was all.

"Woman do you have a death wish?" Hardison asked from the couch, shaking his head.

"Yeah, not to mention it's a total invasion of his privacy," Parker piped up. She was lounging in one of the big black chairs, her legs hanging over one arm, her head propped up on the other flipping through a magazine that had lost her interest five minutes before.

"Oh, sure, this from the woman who stole the man's medical records."

"You what?" Nate exclaimed.

Hardison rolled his eyes, "definitely a death wish."

"I-I didn't steal them," Parker swung her feet down to the floor in protest, "I borrowed them. I'll put it back."

"Well where is it now?"Nate pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.

Parker's sent Sophie a dark look as she got up and turned leave the room through one of the extra doors in Nate's loft that the team had put in when they came back. Sophie looked at Hardison, who shrugged.

Parker returned moments later and dropped a brown folder on the table in front of Nate.

He blinked a few times to clear his blurry vision and stop seeing double of the file.

"It starts when he was five, ends when he was about fourteen. After that his hospital visits became a lot less frequent," Parker said, her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at the file and all it represented.

"Yeah because his father wasn't there to knock him around anymore," Sophie said, equal parts disgust and anger.

"Stepfather," Hardison corrected quietly, his dark eyes bouncing nervously around the room while his feet continued to draw him closer to the others as they crowded around the table.

"Parker, you've really got to stop stealing Eliot's personal records," Nate felt obliged to admonish. She made a noncommittal noise and Nate could feel his team's eyes on him. All knowing they shouldn't pry, but none able to deny their curiosities.

He sighed and opened the file.

---

_TBC - __Whoa. Would you guys look at the button?? Looks weird. You should click it. See what it does.  
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	8. Logan

**A/N:** Okay, don't kill me. It's short. I know it's short. I almost didn't post it. It really should have gone into the previous chap but I didn't have the next chap completely written at the time and it turned out WAY longer and more involved than I thought it would and this part just doesn't fit in with it. But, I think it's a nice moment and speaks to Savannah's character and...well i have a thought but I'll tell you about it next (the LAST) chapter. To those of you that reviewed the previous chap I'm SO SORRY I haven't had the chance to reply yet. I LITERALLY just finished the next chap and it's almost 1am and I'm tired. I'll respond to everything before I post the next (LAST) chap...which will be disgustingly long, fyi. Enjoy! - pj

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Eliot was almost asleep when Savannah spoke again, but he was instantly awake at her words.

"You know, if it hadn't been for you leaving…Logan probably never woulda' been born."

Eliot furrowed his brow at the ceiling and then sat up fully to look at his sister, ignoring the answering protest inside his head at the movement.

Her eyes stayed glued to her hands.

"It had been six months since I'd seen you. I was angry…hurt…stupid drunk," she shook her head and sighed, folding her legs Indian style and looked up at him, "and he was cute and he said he loved me so…"

Eliot's eyes grew cold, anticipating her next words. He'd always wondered about Logan's father, but had never thought it was his place to ask. Not anymore, anyway.

Of course, he had done the math. Savannah had only been seventeen when Logan was born, but he'd always hoped he was wrong.

"Where's Logan's father, Savannah?"

She shrugged, "lost touch after graduation. He wasn't ready for a kid." She smiled and raised an ironic eyebrow, "but then, neither was I. But we girls don't really get a choice in the matter though, do we?" She knocked back the rest of her drink and looked at him, allowing Eliot to see, not for the first time, the haunted look of eyes that had seen and done too much.

"Savannah I'm…"

"Don't you dare say you're sorry." She warned him, her eyes snapping to his "I love that little boy more than anything. Wouldn't trade him for the world."

Eliot pursed his lips, "I was just going to say 'I'm sorry I wasn't there'."

She smirked, "no, you were gonna say you're sorry you weren't there so you could break his shit in half."

Eliot grinned and nodded his assent, "well there's that too."

---

_TBC - __Ugh, that was so short I shouldn't even ask for reviews...but I'm going to anyway. lol. I 3 you!! __  
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	9. No More Secrets

**A/N:** Well here it is. The last chapter. It's been a long time coming, and it's exceptionally long as it is, almost twice the length of my usual chaptersbut, as I said before, when I started writing the first part it wasn't supposed to be this big and then the plot bunnies just sort of...took over! lol. They do that. So, I think I've responded to everyone that reviewed but I want to make sure you guys know, I mean all of you: reviewers, alerters and lurkers, that I really appreciate your being along for the ride. As always, special thanks to**_ luna-pendragon, TexasPrissy, lwhilley, GuiltyPleasuresAndDeadlySins, NAVILLUS, Halfcent, vickyloka, spnchick, celticmoongoddess87, SuzSeb_** for reviewing the last chap and/or the one before it. Enjoy - pj

**A/N2:** Silly me, I forgot the most important thing! See, I've been debating and debating whether or not to make a sequel to this, but I have finally decided I shall. I had already started outlining but then thought maybe I'd just let it lie. But see, vickyloka requested something, more or less, in one of her reviews and, seeing that she is like my muses' best friend, I figured I couldn't rightly deny her, now could I? Lol. So, everyone who enjoyed this and wants more, be on the lookout for the sequel: Always Had A Reason, coming to a fanfiction site near you soon! -pj

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They all watched silently as Nate opened the file, each feeling equal parts guilt, curiosity and trepidation as Nate began to read, giving them paraphrased versions of all the medical notes written in the file.

Nate reached for his drink after reading the first few lines and gulped down the last of the amber liquid inside. He knew more about Eliot's past than the rest of them with the exception maybe of Hardison. But to have it all laid out like this, having had a son once for whom he would have moved mountains to protect, reading all of this now...it was unfathomable what Eliot had lived through. Both he _and _Savannah.

So Nate stuck to basics and clung to facts, hoping they would not fail to anchor him.

"Multiple admissions for finger breaks and deep bruising on his legs until he was seven. Apparently Eliot played football," Nate scoffed, muttering under his breath, "football. Yeah. I'll bet."

"Two fingers on his right. Then two on his left. Then his pinky on his right again. Bruises on his back and the backs of his legs that made it hard to walk or sit," Parker recited the specifics in monotone. "Defensive injuries."

They all looked over to see her curled up on the counter with her knees to her chest, eyes defocused and far away. "He was trying to protect his face. Curl up in a ball. Other parts take the damage." No one responded, but everyone saw her own hands tighten and fist into her jeans. Hardison moved so that he was standing beside her, but didn't touch.

Nate cleared his throat and continued, swallowing hard and pausing every now and then as his stomach turned, "when he was eight there was an admission for a broken arm and later on that year a broken collar bone."

Hardison dropped onto one of the chairs at the bar and Sophie wrapped her arms around her stomach and turned to look out the window.

"At twelve he needed surgery for a ruptured spleen," Nate paused, taking a breath he squeezed his eyes shut, telling himself his vision was blurry because of all the alcohol running through his system. Hardison's leg was bouncing in agitation as he stared off into space.

"He had his left shoulder dislocated at thirteen."

Sophie gasped and Hardison, Parker and Nate shared a glance. It was a recurring injury, the dislocated shoulder. It had popped out on Eliot more than three times just since he'd started working with them. And no wonder, having it damaged so badly when he was a young teen and the joint was still developing. It also explained why he had disturbingly little difficulty putting it back into place.

He'd been doing it for a long time.

"And then-" Nate stopped suddenly, rereading the line of type, to be sure he hadn't misunderstood.

"Oh my god," the muttered curse was almost a whisper but it commanded the entire teams' attention and their eyes all snapped to Nate.

"What is it Nate?" Sophie demanded, not daring to peer over his shoulder but not wanting him to stop there either.

"When he," Nate rasped, then cleared his throat and tried again, "when he was fourteen-"

"When I was fourteen my stepfather beat me into a coma." A rough voice finished from behind them and they all jumped and whipped around to face the door.

There was no mistaking the fury on Eliot's face.

Hardison leapt to his feet, holding his hands up in surrender. He pointed at Parker, "she stole it."

"Hey!" Parker exclaimed, "It's not like you were exactly upset that I did it."

"What I-I said you had a death wish, you _and _Sophie with her 'Hardison do you have microphones or cameras in Eliot's apartment'," Hardison did a bad imitation of the Brit's voice.

"Hardison! Why did you have to drag me into this I didn't say anything!"

Nate ignored them all, keeping his eyes trained on Eliot, who looked like he had moved past his initial anger at his team's continued lack of regard for privacy and had moved on to something like discomfort and indecision, two things Nate wasn't used to seeing on the Hitter's face.

Eliot caught the man's gaze and something shifted. His chin jutted out just slightly, his shoulders squaring up and his eyes sharpened.

Beside Eliot, Savannah's attention moved from the commotion at the table to her brother. He had been tense before but now, well he wasn't relaxed now, but the tension had changed. It wasn't angry anymore, she'd seen him angry enough times to know what it looked like as it passed and changed into something else. Before she could identify it, though, he was moving.

Eliot stuffed his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie and shuffled/limped across the room toward the rest of the team.

Sensing his movement, Parker, Hardison and Sophie all turned to look as the hitter made his way toward him, Sophie and Parker watching with curiosity, Hardison with trepidation and the hacker took a step back, unsure of how to interpret the look on Eliot's face.

Eliot winced as he sat down in the chair opposite Nate and stretched his leg out in front of him.

"Ya'll really want to know?" he asked, quiet and dangerous.

Perhaps the anger hadn't passed completely.

The team stayed frozen, not answering.

"Well _do you?!_" He shouted, startling them all. Parker shifted, Hardison swallowed and Sophie looked away. Nate met his gaze.

"We want you to trust us, Eliot." He said evenly.

Eliot frowned, about to protest that he _did _trust them, he put his life on the line for them, didn't he? But a thought hit him as sure and solid as a fist to his chest and he stopped himself.

It was true, he trusted them with some things, maybe even many things, but not more than necessary. Never gave more than he thought he could stand to lose. He didn't talk about what he did on his down time. He didn't tell them where he'd been or where he was going. Hell, he hadn't even told them he had a sister until there was no other choice.

And while he had a good reason for the decision to keep those things to himself, always had a reason, it occurred to him that keeping things from those he loved hurt them almost as often as it protected them. Aimee had tried to tell him that, but he hadn't been ready to listen. It had taken Savannah's tears to do that.

Parker may have stolen the file but they had _all _listened to Nate read it and while he was angry, he couldn't really blame them. They were thieves. They weren't like Aimee and Savannah. If they weren't given what they wanted, they stole it. He understood that.

But it never should have come to that.

And he'd be damned if he let it go any further.

"Savvy," he called quietly to his sister who was still standing by the door.

He heard her sneakers scuff softly as she approached and stood beside his chair.

"Yeah?"

He took a deep breath, keeping his eyes locked on Nate's.

"Show 'em."

Savannah's brow wrinkled momentarily and her eyes flicked to the file in front of Nate. All she could see were lines of type from where she stood but she knew what was written on that page.

She'd lived it.

Her eyes widened as she realized his intent and hugged her arms closer to her chest, "45, are you sure?"

Sophie's ears perked to the concern in her voice. She glanced at Parker, seeing the confusion on the young thief's face she knew she wasn't the only one who'd noticed.

Eliot nodded shortly. "Do it."

Savannah dropped her arms to her sides and took a deep breath. Slowly, she reached up to Eliot's hair, gathering the chestnut locks in bunches, tracing her fingers along a well known path and trying to ignore the way they shook.

Hardison was the only one close enough to see at first but the way his dark skin visibly paled at what Savannah's movements revealed quickly brought the rest of the team around to the other side of the table.

Parker's eyes welled up, Sophie gasped and covered her mouth and Nate's eyes grew hard and the muscles in his jaw tensed.

There, running from just behind Eliot's right temple down and round the back of his head to the base of his skull, was a jagged, nearly twenty-year old scar dividing his head into two hemispheres. Almost half an inch wide at the middle before tapering off at each end, it bore silent witness to the tragic life a young Colt Walker had lived and the equally violent one Eliot Spencer would choose.

"Hair won't grow there so I keep it long," Eliot explained when the tense silence became too much, "it's a defining characteristic, too memorable."

"I'll say," Hardison muttered, sure the sight of the scar had been burned into his memory for life. Sophie nodded, for a con man, the ability to get the job done and dissppaer was invaluable. A mark, a _scar, _like that would have been a death warrant for Eliot if he hadn't found a way to hide it.

"How did that-?"

"What could have-?"

"Oh my God."

Eliot kept his eyes glued to the table, absently massaging his leg and ignoring the knot in his stomach. Only a handful of people in the world even knew about that scar, let alone had seen it. That number had just doubled and it made all of Eliot's internal alerts and warning bells go crazy.

He chose to do this, he reminded himself. These people were more than his team. They were his family. He could trust them.

_Trust them._

"I got a bad grade on a test." Savannah muttered and the team all drug their eyes away from Eliot to look at her.

"Wasn't your fault sweetheart," Eliot said, turning his head slightly so that his hair fell from her grip, covering the huge scar once more, though none of them stopped seeing it.

Savannah continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Frank was drunk. Momma…momma was always drunk. He came at me with the beer bottle when I showed them the grade. Colt stepped between us. Started hittin' him and bitin' him," she gasped slightly as choppy images of memories long suppressed surged forward, "but he was so much bigger…he tossed 45 across the room like he was nothin'."

Eliot had turned in his chair to face the rest of them. He caught Nate's glance and clarified, "threw me into some stairs. Banged my head. Don't remember much after that."

Savannah swallowed. She remembered everything. How still he was. How Frank didn't stop beating him even after her brother's body had gone limp.

The cold chill that ran up her spine when she realized he was going to kill him.

"Frank kept guns everywhere…to make sure no one of us ever forgot what he was capable of doing." By now her eyes were locked on Eliot's, telling the story for the first time since testifying in court that muggy summer day when she was nine.

"I grabbed the one he kept in the bookcase...and I shot him."

Eliot could see the terror in Savannah's eyes, knew her fight or flight reflex was as strong and honed as his, so he reached out with one splinted hand and grabbed her fingers, assuring her that she was safe here and telling her she didn't need to run.

"I needed surgery to stop the brain swelling. That's what made the scar," Eliot explained, giving Savannah one last nod before turning to look at the team.

Silence stretched out between them as everyone fought to process the information overload they were on. Hardison and Nate had their eyes closed, Hardison's head tipped back to the ceiling, Nate's bowed forward to the floor. Sophie was crying silently, her hand still covering her mouth as she stared at Eliot with new, sad eyes but had the good sense not to feel pity. Neither sibling wanted that.

Parker, however, was staring straight at Savannah, that blank, almost assessing look on her face that still made the team a bit uneasy. Finally, after several moments, the other woman realized she was the object of the thief's scrutiny and met her stare.

The standoff continued several moments more, neither woman moving, when suddenly Parker stepped forward. Savannah almost flinched, unsure of what to expect.

No one was more surprised than Savannah when Parker wrapped her arms around her in a firm hug. She'd barely gotten over her shock enough to return the embrace when Parker released her and stepped back.

"For what you did. For Eliot," she explained haltingly, looking uncomfortable.

Savannah's eyes widened and her mouth opened and closed a few times as she searched for a response. She didn't regret killing Frank to save Eliot, she knew that much. But guilt is natural, killing isn't, and she spent her days saving lives to make up for the one she'd taken.

But that didn't mean she regretted it.

"He woulda' done it for me." Savannah said simply.

Parker gave her a long look, then smiled abruptly, reaching out to pet her hair.

"I guess you're okay."

Savannah furrowed her brow and glanced at Eliot, who shrugged.

"Thanks. I think."

The thief nodded, turning to go back to her perch on the counter, then stopped and turned back quickly.

"Um, here's your wallet. And your watch."

Savannah frowned, taking the objects from her outstretched hand, at a loss, "What…I…when did you…"

"I took them before, when I thought you were being mean to Eliot," she said flatly and seeing Eliot's light glare, she shrugged, "sorry."

Savannah nodded mutely, unsure if to be happy this woman was so protective of her brother or disturbed that she'd taken the things and Savannah hadn't noticed.

She was cut short from contemplating it for too long though when she felt a pressure on her forearm. She turned and saw Sophie giving her a small smile, gratitude and appreciation portrayed equally on her face.

Beside the grifter stood Nate, who met Savannah's gaze and gave her a slight nod, but she suspected that was only because he had not yet found his voice, if the red rimmed eyes were anything to go by.

From her other side Hardison caught Savannah's attention and stepped forward. Hardison was a hugger, after all. He wisely kept the embrace short though, as Eliot was sitting less than a foot away and he could feel the hitter's glare boring into his temple.

"I guess the Badass gene must run in the family," he quipped as he stepped back.

Savannah gave him a sad smile, "no, just the Protective one."

The hacker nodded. They knew exactly what _that_ gene was all about.

"Alright, um, alright everybody, I believe a bit of food is in order, yeah?" Sophie broke the somber mood with an ease and grace only she could manage, subtly dabbing at her eyes and wiping her cheeks before plastering on a smile. Affirmative replies ranged from monosyllabic grunts from Eliot to outright cheers from Hardison and Parker.

"Perfect, I'll cook," the Brit announced, placing her hands on her hips with a nod. Nate looked like a deer in headlights and Parker, Hardison and Eliot all looked at her as if she'd grown an ear smack-dab in the middle of her face. Savannah wondered what she' d missed.

"But, um," Hardison started, but trailed off, unable to finish.

Parker stepped forward and dropped her head to Sophie's ear to whisper, albeit loudly, "Sophie, you can't cook."

Eliot would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't pretty sure it would make him fall over. That was the understatement of the century. The last time she'd been allowed to cook, incidentally also the last time Eliot was too injured to, the team had suffered through raw beef and burnt salad.

Yes.

Burnt. Salad.

"Oh, yeah, I know," Sophie nodded, waving the thought away and they all sighed in relief, "when I say 'cook' I mean 'order take out from that lovely little Chinese place down the street'."

"Oh!"

"Oh, well that's different."

"Okay."

That settled, Eliot started to stand from his chair. But before he could, the team started moving toward the kitchen where the take out menus were kept, each catching his eyes as they walked by. Their nods and awkward smiles and, brief hugs in Sophie's case, told him everything he didn't need to hear.

Sometimes love was easier to express without the words.

That was certainly how Eliot preferred anyway.

But then, they all knew that.

Still sore and tired and ready to get off his feet Eliot moved from the wooden kitchen tables to the soft, black leather couch and slowly lowered himself down onto it. When he was younger he would have shrugged off his injuries with a couple aspirin and headstrong will. Would have been determined to climb back on the Bicycle of Crime within 24hours.

He'd learned the hard way, more than once, that that philosophy of healing was ill advised.

Now he knew the more he rested, the sooner he could be back to 100%. And the team needed him at 100%.

Nate, Hardison and Parker followed Sophie into the kitchen, bickering about how much Lo Mein to order, and Savannah, not knowing what else to do, followed her brother to the living room.

Eliot had his eyes closed but felt the couch dip and could tell by the soft scent of oranges who it was.

"I haven't thought about that night in years."

Eliot grunted.

"It's good you shared it with them."

Surprised by the calm in her tone he opened his eyes to look at her, raising an eyebrow in question.

She shrugged, "families should know that sort of thing."

Eliot waited for her to look at him before responding. When she did, he spoke quietly.

"I never lost track of you, you know."

Savannah didn't answer so he continued.

"Your swim team won the State Championship your Sophomore year. You were on Homecoming court. Accepted to Brown _and _Columbia?"

There was no mistaking the pride in his tone.

Savannah grinned and it brightened her face just how he remembered.

She nodded, "I thought that was you."

He furrowed his brow and tilted his head, confused.

Savannah shrugged, explaining without needing to be asked, "no way Aunt Lori and Uncle Bill coulda' afforded room and board at an Ivy League school without a little help. I knew it was you." She dropped her eyes to her hands, "I think that made it harder to take."

Guilt gripped Eliot's chest again and he sighed, reaching over to take her hand again, "I _am _sorry Sav."

"I know you are," she smiled, slow and sweet like he hadn't seen in years, "You were tryin' to protect me."

"Always."

She squeezed his hand gently to get his attention, "Thank you."

Eliot smiled and it made her feel light._  
_

"So, um," she said after a moment, pulling her feet up under her and tucking loose hair behind her ear, "what should I call you? I'm guessing there's a reason you stopped going by Colt."

"'s stupid name," he mumbled, his eyes drifting shut again and Savannah laughed.

"Yeah well, it's yours so…" she shrugged.

"45. Colt. Eliot. Hell, call me Michelangelo if you want," his voice dropped an octave and opened his eyes, growing serious, "doesn't matter what you call me Savannah so long as you call. You need me, I'll be there."

She looked into his eyes for a minute, seeing the promise and apology.

She took a deep breath, glancing toward the team, now gathered around Hardison's laptop doing something at the kitchen table.

"You're my brother," she said quietly, dragging her eyes back to his, "No matter what name you go by. No matter how many people hate your guts…you're still mine. And short of my son there is _nothing _I wouldn't give to be a part of your life again."

"It could be dangerous," Eliot warned, having anticipated this.

"I'm willing to take that risk," she said, not missing a beat, "It's not really all that different than the risk to families of cops and Federal Agents. Face it. You're one of the good guys now."

Eliot's expression didn't change and she sighed, exasperated, "I'm not saying I want to move in next door, okay? I have a career and I'm not looking to give it up. But…you know a call every now and then wouldn't kill you. Emails? Having dinner together when our paths cross, spending holidays together. That's all I'm asking for here."

He took a deep breath, raking a hand through his hair.

"Please, Ellie."

He raised an eyebrow at her, "Ellie?"

She shrugged one shoulder, her eyes glinting impishly, "you said whatever I want."

Eliot grunted.

"I spend holidays with the team sometimes," he said hesitantly. But if she really meant what she said, that she wanted to risk being a part of her life, she had to be okay with those who were already in it.

Savannah looked thoughtful and pursed her lips, "I'm alright with that."

He raised an eyebrow, "really?"

"Yeah. Anyone who defends you as vehemently as they did obviously cares about you. And if they do then they're fine by me."

They shared a brief smile, years of tension and unease leaving their faces before the moment was broken by Hardison dropping three boxes of Authentic Italian pizza on the table in front of them.

"Food's here!" He called out and a moment later the couch and chairs were occupied by the team. Parker brought beer, Nate brought plates and cups and '_coasters _for crying out loud'.

Sophie shoved painkillers at Eliot and raised an eyebrow that said she knew how long it had been since he'd taken some. Savannah jumped right in when the grifter pulled a beer from Eliot's hands and handed him water, feeling at home as she nagged him about his bad habit of mixing painkillers and alcohol when Sophie backed her up.

Eliot couldn't even muster the energy to be upset.

"I thought we were having Chinese," he grumbled, pulling a steaming piece of pizza onto his plate.

"Not in the mood," Parker explained, seated on the floor by his feet. Eliot couldn't help but wonder who exactly 'wasn't in the mood' since no one had had a problem with it ten minutes before. But, then again, this was Parker he was talking to so it probably didn't matter.

"Movie time," Hardison announced, getting up to fiddle with the DVD player.

"Cool," Savannah said, finishing her first piece of pizza and reaching for another, "what are we watching?"

Hardison turned from where he was standing to face the team, "you ever heard of Doctor Who?"

Much to his, and pretty much everyone else's surprise, Savannah bobbed her head enthusiastically.

"Yeah!" she said around her pizza, "love that show."

Hardison's jaw dropped, "you're kidding?"

Savannah shook her head, not understanding his disbelief.

He smiled wide. "Did you know their coming out with an expansion on the Doctor Who MMORPG?"

"There's an MMORPG?" She was practically bouncing, but restrained herself to keep from jostling Eliot.

Sophie, Nate and Parker sighed deeply and resigned themselves to an evening of geekspeek and Eliot pressed his hands to his eyes and groaned.

"Hardison, if you turn my sister into a blonde version of you and I _will _kill you."

Hardison paused briefly in his explanation and looked at the hitter, "dude, you really need to get therapy. Really." Then returned to his conversation.

Eliot growled. He must be losing his touch if even Hardison wasn't afraid of him. When he was healed he'd have to invite the hacker to spar and _remind _the younger man just _why _he should be afraid of Eliot Spencer.

But as the Doctor Who theme flowed from the surround sound speakers Eliot found he couldn't hold on to his annoyance. And he blamed Sophie and her damn painkillers, but hearing Savannah laugh with Hardison after so many years of not hearing anything from her at all, he found he couldn't help but smile as he drifted off to sleep.

---

_END__ - The ride is over please exit to your right, and I hope to see you next time in '**Always Had A Reason**' and whatever else that decides to drop out of my brain between now and then. Here's hoping Season Three comes early!!! :)  
_


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